Going Home
by Molly Morrison
Summary: A homeless teenager shows up at the Clark farm, and it seems that she is hiding something. Could she and Clark have something in common? (UNFINISHED and I have no idea when I might update next!)
1. Arrival

Author's Notes: Let's see. I'm sure this is a complete surprise to you, but I don't own Smallville, any of the characters contained it, or in fact any portion of the Superman franchise. But thank you to those that do, because I enjoy it very much. On the other hand, Becca is in fact my own character, and thus I "own" her. As for this fic, it's my first about Smallville, and as such I would really appreciate any comments or constructive criticism you can offer. Other than that, hope you enjoy! (P.S. There will be more of the characters you know and love in the coming chapters.)  
  
Going Home  
  
Back home. Her parents had moved away long ago, and it wasn't as if anyone would recognize her. The last time she had been here she had been a fragile 4-year-old. Now she was "sweet" sixteen, though a stranger could hardly tell it through the layer of dust and grime that covered her. Her clothes were plenty to cover her but not worth much for warmth, her hair was a tangled mess that hadn't been cut for years, and her eyes were dull with lack of nutrition. All in all, she wasn't a very pretty sight. Which tended to serve her purposes, because people had sympathy on a young, homeless girl. She'd been exploiting that tendency for the last twelve years.  
  
She sat on the edge of a field, staring past the farm that stood on it toward the center of town. It was the middle of the afternoon, but she still had a couple miles to walk, and at this rate she wouldn't be there before dark. And though this town was not necessarily crime-ridden, she still didn't like arriving anywhere at night. No, better to sleep under the stars and walk into town in the morning. There would be more people around who would mother the poor young girl. And that was all she needed before she moved on. Certainly she would leave, as always, before anyone got too connected to her.  
  
Bang, bang, bang. The rapid succession of percussive noises finally impinged upon her attention. She stood to her feet. If she had a few hours to wait, she might as well see the owners of this farm. From a distance, of course. The nearby trees would create a perfect cover. Stealing toward them, she moved in the general direction of the noise. She wondered what machine was making all the noise.  
  
Finally, she was around the barn and safely ensconced within the trees. From here she could see-wait a second, what was going on? She peered at the blur, and her eyes widened at the steadily rising stack of wood. Just then, she heard a yell from the house. "Clark! That's enough. Come help me with this!"  
  
The blur resolved itself into a normal appearing 16-year-old. She blinked, frowning. This didn't make any sense. He put down the ax that he was still holding, then began to walk toward the house. She took a step forward to keep him in sight, and her clumsiness struck. Her foot caught under a tree root, she fell forward with a cry. She could feel the muscles tear as she fell, and she mentally chastised herself for being so careless. How could she go into town with a sprained ankle? She couldn't.  
  
"Hey, who's there?" Oh no, now he had heard her. She moved back into the trees quietly, and held her breath. Maybe he would decide that it had just been an animal. Instead, his voice came again. "I know you're there… It's okay to come out."  
  
No it wasn't. She contemplated her options and decided to just lay still. She was far enough back that he shouldn't really be able to find her. She hadn't been loud enough to warrant that much persistence. She listened silently to the crunch of his footsteps, and to her dismay they appeared to be getting steadily closer. Just when she was seriously considering plan B, he appeared around the trunk of the tree, looking straight at her. So much for hiding.  
  
"Hello!" he said in surprise. "I don't think I've seen you around."  
  
No really, she thought sarcastically. Out loud she said nothing and just looked up at him, trying to hide her fear. Apparently she wasn't completely successful. "It's okay," he told her in his best comforting voice. "I'm really not dangerous."  
  
Maybe if I don't talk, he'll go away. If he just gets far enough out of sight, I can be out of here and he'll never know any better. "Are you okay? I heard you scream earlier." She continued to stare at him. But contrary to all logical thought, he didn't walk away to get someone. No, instead he called for MORE people. "Mom, Dad!"  
  
"What is it, Clark?" came the same male voice from inside the house.  
  
Clark looked back at her. "Just a sec, I'll get some help." He turned back toward the house. "Uhh.. we've got a visitor!"  
  
At this, she heard more footsteps coming. But she didn't feel like sticking around for this. She began to crawl away. Maybe, if she could just get out of sight…  
  
"Hey, you don't need to do that. I'll help you." He walked over and knelt down next to her. "Do you mind if I pick you up? I can take you inside and we can get you some food and see what you've injured."  
  
The way her eyes widened must have been enough of an answer. "Okay, okay," he responded, standing up. "Over here!"  
  
Here came his parents. Two typical, friendly looking, run-of-the-mill farmers. With their usual sympathy. Usually she would be happy to accept this kind of positive reaction, but when she was injured… she just wanted to find someplace to hide out.  
  
She saw some silent communication passing between the three of them, and then the woman moved toward her. "Hello, dear… What's your name?"  
  
Well, all was lost now. She was going to have to answer. She mustered a whisper and responded quietly, "Becca."  
  
"Well, nice to meet you, Becca! How about we go inside and get you cleaned up… and have a look at that ankle, while we're at it."  
  
The woman was sharp. She had already noticed Becca's special treatment of her ankle. With a sigh, Becca began to lift herself to her feet, keeping her weight off of her ankle. The boy stepped forward to help, but the woman sent him back with a glance and offered her shoulder as support for Becca.  
  
"That's right," she told her encouragingly as Becca began to hobble toward the house with her help. "My name is Martha.. oops, be careful!" she exclaimed as Becca accidentally put her weight on her bad ankle and paled with a whimper. "Clark could carry you if you'd like," she suggested gently.  
  
Becca realized she couldn't win, so she gave in and shrugged in assent. At that, the boy once again appeared and gently lifted her. She closed her eyes and focused all her attention on just letting him carry her. She knew they must think that this was strange but she would let them interpret this however they liked.  
  
The effort was quickly beginning to tire when he finally lowered her gently to the couch. She relaxed slightly, but remained tense. She couldn't let herself get distracted, not while she was here.  
  
Martha was still mothering her. "Relax, dear. Let me get some ice for that ankle of yours."  
  
"I'll do that," Clark volunteered quickly, and she noted that both Clark and his father disappeared into the kitchen. Apparently they wanted to confer about the stranger.  
  
"So how did you end up in our neck of the woods, Becca?" Martha asked gently. Here was the moment of truth, and she couldn't find the words to speak. Just to tie her tongue further, Clark and his father reentered the room at that point. Becca closed her eyes and focused all her attention on remaining calm. "Becca?" she heard the woman asking in an alarmed voice. "Are you okay, dear?"  
  
She nodded slowly and then forced herself to open her eyes. She was feeling distinctly sick to her stomach. Her stomach made some loud digestive noises, effectively changing the subject, much to Becca's relief.  
  
"When was the last time you ate?" Martha asked, and she was clearly noticing again how slender this young vagabond was.  
  
Becca frowned, trying to answer the question, and Martha jumped to her feet before she could. "I'll be right back with something for you to eat!" Becca watched her and saw the look that she gave the two men. They didn't completely trust her yet… or maybe they were afraid of her running. A valid concern, Becca noted to herself.  
  
The father stepped forward now to have his attempt at engaging her in conversation. "Hello, Becca.. my name is Jonathan." Casually, he sat on the back of the couch on the opposite end from Becca. "Where are you from, if you don't mind me asking?"  
  
Hit by a brilliant idea, Becca blurted out, "I need to get home!" and began to get up from the couch. Unfortunately, there was Martha walking up next to her again to gently push her down.  
  
"Calm down, dear. If you'll tell us where home is, we can call your parents while you get some food and rest," she suggested.  
  
Becca could feel a bit of fear rising in her throat. Forcing it down, she tried to remain calm as she said, "That's okay, I can get there myself." She removed the ice from her ankle and said, "My ankle is feeling much better now." Standing to her feet and trying to appear as though she was putting weight on her ankle while not, she told them, "Thanks so much for all your help!" and began to walk toward the door, the only sign of her pain being in the whiteness of her face.  
  
Suddenly she found Clark in front of her. "Why are you so afraid?" he asked, genuinely curious. She started to move around her but he followed her movement. A strangled cry of frustration made its way out of her throat, and she looked up at him.  
  
"Are you in the habit of imprisoning visitors?" she asked with barely concealed frustration.  
  
She heard his father's voice from behind her. "Well, you were trespassing. But no, we don't want to imprison you. How about you come sit down again, have a little something to eat, and tell us what you were doing. Then we can take you home or have your parents come get you."  
  
Stepping out to try to go around Clark once more, the weight that she put on her ankle was too much and she felt it collapse beneath her. She crumpled to the floor and clenched her fists, shaking with the effort of pushing the pain away and keeping herself in control.  
  
She felt a gentle touch on her shoulder, but she shrugged it away violently and stayed curled up on the floor. This was quickly moving from uncomfortable to disastrous. She wished there were some way that she could escape, but apparently she was trapped. And with the way that Clark had tracked her down before, she would have trouble being certain that he was out of sight so that she could really escape. She felt the tears start and cursed her emotions.  
  
Once again she felt the hand on her shoulder, and this time she had not enough concentration or strength to muster any kind of reaction. The hand began to rub her back gently, and she felt herself relaxing. Some of the frustration began to subside, but in its place came a renewed fear of being distracted. She tensed, holding herself in check.  
  
"Relax, it's okay…" said the female voice as the hand continued to gently rub her back.  
  
"No… I have to go home!" she said, arching her back. She got her knees underneath her and then tried to get to her feet, but her ankle didn't even try to hold her weight this time. She clenched her fists and tried again. Suddenly she felt not only weak but dizzy, and the whole world spun dangerously and went black.  
  
She expected to be unconscious, but on some level she was still conscious. She couldn't see or do anything, but she could still hear their voices, as if down a tunnel. They were panicking and moving her. She wondered what her body was doing and hoped that it wasn't betraying her. That was the last thing she needed.  
  
After a few minutes of this, things began to fade back in. Her whole body tingled and sensation returned to her body slowly, as her eyes also began to clear up. She had just regained her vision enough to see that Martha was standing over her tending to her when a wave of nausea overcame her and she vomited all over her.  
  
Immediately she felt horrible. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" she whispered. She curled up on her side, feeling miserable. She closed her eyes as she heard them all moving around, trying to clean up the mess that she had made. All she wanted to do was melt into the bed and disappear, but she fought that feeling. That was the last visual image she needed to give herself.  
  
She heard Clark once again, still curious. "What are you so afraid of?"  
  
"I-I just need to get home," Becca insisted.  
  
"Your parents are waiting for you?" he asked, the skepticism in his voice evident.  
  
Instead of answering, she curled up tighter and stared at the wall. After a moment, Clark spoke again. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. It's just… I don't know why you feel like you need to lie to us."  
  
"I don't need handouts," she told him, surprising herself even as the words escaped her mouth. Since when did she turn down handouts? Since they involved making herself vulnerable, apparently.  
  
"Well, the least you can do is have a little something to eat and get some rest. If you want to leave in the morning, that's up to you." He appeared in her field of vision, holding out a bowl of soup. "It's still warm, you know. And my mom is a great cook."  
  
From the doorway, Martha responded, "Okay, Clark, what do you want?" in a teasing tone. Becca almost cried to hear their banter. How she wanted-No. She couldn't have this. Not her.  
  
She turned over to face away from them. Maybe if she gave them the cold shoulder enough, they would leave her alone. If she could just stay awake until they all went to bed then she could get out of there before they asked any more prying questions.  
  
She could almost see Clark shrug. "Okay, if you don't want to eat anything, that's fine. I'll leave this right here…" she heard the bowl being set down on the bedside table behind her, "… and let you get some rest." She heard footsteps leaving the room, and she relaxed slightly.  
  
It was nice to have a soft bed in a warm house. It had been a long time since she'd slept out of the wind on a bed thicker than one of leaves. Usually her "rest" occurred in a tree with a sufficiently large branch, and was never very prolonged. Perhaps she could just sleep here for a little while and then leave… 


	2. The Trouble Begins...

Author's Note: Hmm.. Well, disclaimer's in the last chapter. I guess there's not much to say here. Enjoy!  
  
Going Home, Part 2  
  
She awoke with a start to the sound of the doorknob turning. She caught herself just in time to avoid the loud noise of her body hitting the bed. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief, and looked up to see Martha entering.  
  
"Did you sleep well dear?" Becca nodded as she sat up.  
  
"Thank you so much for letting me sleep here," she added with a smile, still relieved that the disaster she had been dreading had been averted.  
  
Martha returned her smile. "You look much better this morning. How about we get you a bath and some breakfast?" Her eyes strayed to Becca's ankle. "How does your ankle feel?"  
  
Becca gently pulled up her pant leg to reveal a swollen ankle, frowning. Martha made some worried noises and said, "Looks like that's due for some more ice once we get you cleaned up."  
  
"Why are you going to all this work over me?" Becca asked her abruptly.  
  
Martha stopped in the middle of her ministrations. "Why? How could we not?"  
  
"You don't owe me anything," she responded with a frown.  
  
"We're not doing this out of obligation. It's just… there's no way, in good conscience, we could let a-" Martha stopped for a moment, choosing her words. "A girl who was hurt just stay in the woods. Besides, you seem like a very nice girl."  
  
A slightly bitter laugh escaped through Becca's lips, and she shook her head slightly. Martha dropped the subject and turned back to the former focus. "I have some fresh clothes and a towel in the bathroom for you. Now we just need to get you there and you can have a nice warm bath and come out for breakfast when you're ready."  
  
Becca sighed at the thought of once again trying to move. But now that she was here, she could hardly turn down the chance to get clean and have some food. After that, then she could disappear and nurse her ankle back to health in the safety of isolation.  
  
Martha held out her arm. "Come on, I'll help you." Reluctantly, Becca stood to her feet… or, more accurately, her foot. She tried to figure out how to do this without hurting herself again. Placing her arm around Martha's shoulders, she leaned forward as though about to step, then realized she was about to put her weight on her bad foot. Once again, she began to shake as she fought her natural instinct, bred for twelve years, and tried to do things the way she was expected to.  
  
Martha looked at Becca in concern as she removed her arm from around her shoulders. "Maybe I should have one of the men carry you again." She nodded, and Martha turned and yelled, "Clark!"  
  
They both waited a moment, but there was no response. Martha tried another tack. "Jonathan?"  
  
"Yes?" came the answer, yelled from another part of the house.  
  
"Where is Clark?"  
  
A short silence, and then, "I don't know. I'll be right back." Becca heard the door open and close, and then Jonathan yelling, "Clark!"  
  
From outside, Becca and Martha heard, "Wha-AHHHHH!"  
  
Martha was out the door before Becca could even turn back. Outside, she could hear Jonathan shouting, "Clark?!" Soon he was joined by Martha.  
  
After a moment, their voices quieted, but Becca could see no sign of them. Frustrated, she took a chance and slipped off the bed and out into the living room. She stopped on the couch, knowing that she couldn't justify having crawled any further than that, and waited.  
  
Five minutes later, the three of them walked in. "I'm fine!" she heard Clark protest.  
  
"This time," Jonathan pointed out pessimistically.  
  
Martha was about to add her two cents when she looked up. "Becca!" This turned all three heads toward her. "How did you get out here?"  
  
Becca looked at Clark. "What happened?" she asked, deliberately ignoring the question for the moment.  
  
Clark looked sheepish and rubbed the back of his neck. "Nothing… I just…"  
  
Jonathan helped out his embarrassed son. "He just had a little fall in the barn."  
  
Clark shot a frustrated glance at his father, then nodded. "Yeah... I'm not the most coordinated person in the world."  
  
Becca shrugged. "Neither am I."  
  
"Speaking of which, how did you get out here?" Martha repeated. "You couldn't have walked on that ankle."  
  
"I crawled," she lied, looking down so they couldn't see her face. Her urge to escape was growing, and she realized suddenly that it was getting harder to feel the couch. She clenched her teeth and forced the feelings inside of her down.  
  
"Well… I don't think you want to try to crawl the whole rest of the way to the bathtub." She looked to Clark. He nodded and walked around the couch, reaching down to pick up Becca. She sighed and nodded that he could lift her, still clenching her teeth and thinking "heavy" thoughts.  
  
"What brought you to Smallville, Becca?" Martha asked as she kept pace with Clark. Surprised by the question, she was momentarily distracted and felt it begin. She closed her eyes and focused everything in her, and felt herself settle back into Clark's arms. With her eyes closed, she couldn't see the weird look that Clark gave her.  
  
After much ado, she finally found herself settled in the bathtub. Once she was clean, though, she had no interest in remaining in the water. Lifting herself out of it, she found the clothes that Martha had left and redressed. She opened the door and found that Mrs. Kent had returned to the kitchen and was talking to her son and husband.  
  
"Do you have any idea what triggered it?"  
  
"No, Mom! And… what if someone sees me?"  
  
"It's a valid concern. Especially with Becca around. It was fortunate for us that she couldn't run after us to find out what was going on," came Jonathan's response.  
  
This peaked Becca's curiosity beyond caution. She hadn't made it for twelve years by being oblivious to what was going on around her. And if she had an advantage in this little game, then she might as well use it. She moved silently out toward the kitchen, closer where she could hear them as they lowered their voices.  
  
"What are we going to do about Becca?" Clark questioned.  
  
Martha replied after a moment of silence. "I'm afraid she may have nowhere to go. And she's not really going anywhere with that ankle. She did quite a number on it."  
  
"She's probably the least of our problems," pointed out Clark's father. "For now, she doesn't have very much mobility. We should probably be more concerned about what Clark should do if this reoccurs."  
  
Clark laughed, but there was little amusement in it. "Not likely that I'll hurt myself."  
  
Becca could imagine the sympathetic look that Martha had to be giving to her son as she responded to the tone of his voice. "Clark, it's going to be fine. We'll get through this just like all the others, one at a time."  
  
She wondered what they could possibly be talking about. Suddenly, she noticed that the silence was unnatural. Before she could react Clark had rounded the couch. She winced as she hit the ground, but hoped that he hadn't caught a glimpse of where she had been.  
  
Clark looked down at her, frowning. Martha, on the other hand, was more confused than upset. "How?"  
  
But Jonathan's voice was the most stern. "What kind of game are you playing?"  
  
Becca hid her face. Now she was in trouble. She wondered if even her backup plan to escape would work now. This was becoming far more dangerous than simply a chance of not getting breakfast.  
  
This time there would be no comfort from Martha, apparently. She could hear Jonathan step closer, and he spoke again. "Look at me." Almost without thinking about it Becca found herself looking up at him. His face was not angry, but it was most certainly not happy either. "We're friendly people, but we do not tolerate liars or trouble-makers. Would you like to explain yourself?"  
  
She seriously considered making a "run" for it. It wouldn't be the first time, but it was rare that she had to escape in plain sight. If it didn't succeed, it could have some very unhappy consequences.  
  
Finally, she decided to go with the truth and see where that got her. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she responded, unable to keep a bit of frustration out of her voice.  
  
She almost thought she saw a bit of smile cross Clark's face. "Try us."  
  
"How about we just go with 'I floated out here'? Then we can get on with whatever you want to do with me," she responded sullenly.  
  
She caught a glimpse of nonverbal communication above her head, and then Clark nodded and his parents walked a short distance away.  
  
Becca looked up at Clark. "How about if I save y'all the trouble and just get myself out of here. Then you don't have to decide what to "do" with me."  
  
Once again, Clark seemed more curious than anything else. "How do you intend to get out of here, exactly? Last I checked, your ankle was pretty badly sprained. Unless you were faking that…"  
  
"Unfortunately, no," she responded. She clambered up onto the couch, trying to get higher. With two of them gone, she just might be able to get out of here…  
  
She watched as Clark moved slightly closer. Fortunately for her, he moved to the side of the couch that she was on. If she went over the back she could make it!  
  
Letting go, she shot up in the air, heading straight for the door. But-Clark somehow made it around the couch and snagged her out of the air. She screamed and forced herself to let go, her weight dropping quickly towards the floor. She braced herself to hit the floor but Clark's reflexes were impressive and he managed to catch her. Then he stood next to the couch, staring at her with wide eyes, as his parents ran in.  
  
"What happened?" they demanded in unison.  
  
He turned his head slightly to see them. "She-" he looked back at Becca, confused. "I think… This might sound really stupid, but I think she flew."  
  
Becca mustered her best derisive look, but somehow it didn't make it to her face. Instead, she curled up and began to cry. She remained in that position for quite a while, undisturbed, until she opened her eyes to find herself hovering two feet above the couch and the Kent family watching her. Somehow, they didn't look that surprised. Certainly, at least, they weren't screaming or running to the phone to call the police. At least, not unless she had missed that.  
  
Finally, Clark broke the silence. "Well, that explains quite a bit." Nervous laughter broke out among them, and quickly returned to silence.  
  
Becca eyed them nervously. "You-you didn't call anyone?" She hadn't bothered to bring herself down onto the couch yet. Now that they knew, it was a bit too much effort for the moment.  
  
"Your secret is safe with us," Clark told her confidently. I looked at him. Why were they taking this so calmly? What was going on?  
  
Then she got an idea. "Well, since you know my secret now, would you mind telling me what really happened to you this morning?"  
  
Clark sent a worried glance in his parents' direction, and they looked at one another and then Mr. Kent nodded slightly.  
  
"Actually… maybe you can help," he began nervously. "You see… I kind of, well, woke up in a tree this morning."  
  
She moved upward abruptly, and then deliberately brought herself down closer to eye level with him. "In a tree?"  
  
He nodded. "You went to sleep in your bed?" He nodded again. "And you've never had a problem with sleepwalking?" Negative.  
  
"So you… you think you flew up there?" she asked incredulously. "Obviously it's not impossible, but why would you suddenly just start flying one night?"  
  
He shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time something strange has happened," was all he could offer in explanation.  
  
"Well, now we're even… but I don't know that I can really help you."  
  
He looked disappointed. She remembered suddenly how it felt when she had suddenly begun having similar problems, twelve years before. She sighed. "I'll try, but it will have to be later. You don't want to practice in the daylight. And you'll only hurt yourself in here."  
  
Clark nodded quickly. "Thanks so much for your help."  
  
"Meanwhile…" she bit her lip in concentration, straightened out, and moved so that her feet were less than an inch from the ground. "… I think I can create a semblance of normality." She shook her head. "I still can't believe that you took it so well. Are you sure that you aren't just stalling me?"  
  
Clark shook his head, and Jonathan spoke up. "No, we aren't, but speaking of stalling, we had better get a move on. You two figuring out a way to thwart gravity doesn't make the chores go away."  
  
Becca laughed out loud, and realized that that was the first time since she could remember that she had honestly laughed. She quickly rubbed her eyes to hide the tears that suddenly threatened to spill down her face. "Well, this turned out to be much more painless than I expected," she managed.  
  
Shameless plea for reviews: I'm a poor starving author (and college student)! Since I know you're not going to pay me, at least you can attempt to sustain me with some reviews so I know that people are reading my work and what you all think. C'mon, click the button below and write a little something! 


	3. Chores

Author's Note:  
  
First of all, I would like to apologize to any of you who read this when I first posted it and have been waiting for a response. I had writer's block, and then I studied in Italy for 6 months and was having trouble even writing in English. ;-) I still have some writer's block, but I'm hoping that I can get restarted on this and get myself moving. This part is rather short but at least this way you can see I haven't abandoned the story!  
  
Timeline-wise, this is sort of in a limbo... because things change so much from episode to episode, I'm trying to write about things that stay the same, so I'm not going to mess with the Clark-Lana stuff. Sorry!  
  
Back Home Part 3  
  
Becca followed Clark out the screen door toward the barn. They moved silently, both feeling relieved at the way things had turned out.  
  
The first thing Clark did was grab an axe and start chopping wood-this time at normal, human speed. Becca grinned. She moved forward to get him to stop. "You don't have to slow down for me... I saw you earlier." At the stricken expression on his face, she held up her hands. "Stop, stop... Don't worry! I'm the one who's floating, after all." He managed a small grin at that.  
  
"I'm sorry, it's just that I'm so used to having to keep secrets-"  
  
"-from everyone," she joined to finish the sentence. They laughed. "Meanwhile, is there anything I can help with while you do your super-human wood-chopping?"  
  
Clark laughed. "Well, Miss "I can't keep my feet on the ground," the barn needs to be swept. Somehow that strikes me as a job you'd be good at." They both knew that Clark didn't need any help, but Becca was glad to have something to occupy herself with.  
  
She was almost finished at the front of the barn when there was a knock and then a pretty girl stuck her head in. "Oh! Who are you?" she asked, in a more friendly than suspicious tone.  
  
Becca recovered from her surprise to pull together a response. Smiling, she answered, "I'm Becca, Clark's cousin."  
  
"Ah. I'm Lana Lang, Clark's next door neighbor and friend." They shook hands. "Nice to meet you." She struck Becca as really nice, almost too nice. A little more and she would think it was too good to be true, but this seemed real. "So what brings you to the thriving town of Smallville?" Lana continued in a playfully sarcastic tone. Becca laughed.  
  
"My parents had to go away, so they sent me to stay with Clark and his parents for the time being."  
  
"Oh really? Where do you live?"  
  
She gave the easiest answer. "Metropolis."  
  
"I see you two have met," said Clark, strolling up behind them. "How are you, Lana?" he asked warmly.  
  
"I'm doing great. Becca was just saying how her parents sent her here from Metropolis for a little while." She looked to Becca. "It must be SO boring here."  
  
Becca smiled. "Right now, it's just quiet-it's so loud in the city sometimes. I'm sure if you talk to me in a few days, though, we can have a good conversation about how little there is to do in Smallville." All three of them laughed.  
  
"Speaking of which, Becca was just helping me with my chores, and I think we may be finished." Becca nodded. "What do we want to do?"  
  
"How about we show Becca 'downtown' and drop in at the Talon?" Lana suggested.  
  
Becca felt a panic sweep over her. No, she wasn't ready for this, she couldn't go where there were more people. What if she lost her concentration?  
  
"I just remembered that your mom wanted me to help with something," she blurted, interrupting the conversation on possibilities. She blushed. "It was nice meeting you," she managed to say to Lana, and she refused to meet Clark's gaze before fleeing the barn.  
  
Lana looked after her in bewilderment, then back to Clark. "What was that all about?"  
  
Clark stared after Becca for a moment, then looked back to Lana. He shrugged. "She's had some trouble making friends... I think she's still nervous around new people." He sighed. "You wait here, I'm going to go after her and make sure she's okay." Lana nodded.  
  
When he entered the house, he saw his mom coming out of the kitchen. "Have you seen Becca?" he asked her.  
  
"Is that what that slamming sound was?" she asked in response. She noticed the expression on her son's face. "Is everything all right?"  
  
Clark frowned. "I'm not sure. Lana showed up, and she was fine, and then all of a sudden she just took off!"  
  
Martha looked around. "We'd better find her." She looked to Clark. "Where's Lana?"  
  
"In the barn... for now. If we take too long she might come looking for me."  
  
"Well then, we'd better hurry. The last thing we need is her wandering in and finding Becca in the air."  
  
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Feedback please! I promise I will be more prompt in adding new chapters, especially if I get some more feedback! :-) 


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